


galatea of the spheres

by thebetterbina



Series: the gentlemen [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 富豪刑事 Balance:UNLIMITED | Fugou Keiji: Balance:Unlimited (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Auction, M/M, and daisuke as daisuke, auction house, drug lords harry and tom, rich people being rich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: “I don’t know.” Harry gives an apathetic shrug, “Is it really romantic to fall in love with your own artwork? It’s narcissism at worst.”The comment makes him chuckle, “Does that make Dalí narcissistic for comparing his wife to Galatea?”Harry makes a noise of disgust. “Ugh―” His face twisting into a frown. “Don’t do that. You’re beginning to sound like Tom.”Rich people being obnoxiously rich, Daisuke attends an auction.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Kanbe Daisuke, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Kambe Daisuke/Katou Haru
Series: the gentlemen [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690606
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	galatea of the spheres

**Author's Note:**

> we have a [FUGOU KEIJI SIMP DISCORD SERVER HERE](https://discord.gg/cYh4dA3), feel free to join we're all heathens <3
> 
> im getting more into this ship than i necessarily should be, blaming ells for derailing this au

Money, Daisuke learned from a very young age, gave him access to things.

It went beyond just being able to afford the latest gadgets and buying a Bentley on the fly; it was rubbing shoulders with prince and princesses, it was private yacht parties in the middle of the Caribbean ocean―it was also an exclusive invitation to auction events, obscure gatherings where the guest list was ever-changing, and never hosted in the same place twice.

These were auction houses that sold stolen Van Gogh paintings, missing Stradivarius violins, priceless historical diamonds―all in their hundred of millions to collectors who’d squirrel their new purchase away into their luxurious homes, coveting a piece of a world treasure.

This one is a private event, invitation only. The host he knows is an owner of multiple real-estate holdings all over the world, so even the combined effort of international law enforcement wouldn’t be able to guess the auction location. 

The Dalí painting in front of him is testament to that. It’s an oil painting of a woman, that much he can tell, pieced together through a series of spheres arranged in a continuous array. It’s pretty, he supposes, in a very vague sort of way, but paintings are not one of Daisuke’s vices and he has very little to do in the preceding party to the main event. The chatter of the guests is a low hum in the background, coupled with the occasional server that offered an appetizer or to replace an empty flute of champagne―it’s all a song and dance he’s familiar with.

“ _ Galatea of the Spheres _ ,” The smooth English is familiar, and he’s treated to the sight of Harry next to him, out of his usual cashmere sweaters and now fitted into a navy blue tuxedo for the evening. The typical unruly mess of black hair has also been tamed, smoothed back with gel presenting a rare sight of the thunderbolt scar that ran from his scalp down just above his eyebrow. “―stolen right off the walls of the  _ Teatro-Museo Dalí _ in Spain. His wife was the muse I believe.”

“I didn’t take you for a connoisseur.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m not.” Harry snickers, taking a sip of his own bubbling liquid. “I just know the thieves who took the painting.”

It’s information Daisuke shuffles away, and meeting Harry feels that way―like a stranger he gets to know all over again, just a new tidbit of knowledge each time. He thinks he knows the game Harry is playing, keeping him interested on these crumbs of details about him, about his life. 

(Daisuke hates to admit he’s playing right into it. Not that he can help it.)

“Why Galatea?” It’s genuine interest on his part, simple things like folklore and mythology eluded him.  _ Stories _ weren’t something a multi-millionaire really dabbled in unless it was for the sake of sculptures or paintings, again, not within his sphere of interest.

“A statue, carved from ivory and so loved by her sculptor that she came to life.”

“A love story then.”

“I don’t know.” Harry gives an apathetic shrug, “Is it really romantic to fall in love with your own artwork? It’s narcissism at worst.” 

The comment makes him chuckle, “Does that make Dalí narcissistic for comparing his wife to Galatea?”

Harry makes a noise of disgust. “ _ Ugh _ ―” His face twisting into a frown. “Don’t do that. You’re beginning to sound like Tom.”

At the mention of the other only does Daisuke notice the lack of his presence, and that’s a rare thing considering he’s is very familiar with the emotion of possessiveness constantly radiating off the other male in waves whenever it came to Harry. It doesn’t help there are lingering glances always falling their way, to him or Harry, it’s anyone’s guess.

“Where is Thomas?”

“You can just call him  _ Tom _ you know?” Harry responds with a roll of eyes. “Playing nice with the host, I suppose. You know how he is, ever the polite asshole et cetera.”

It makes Daisuke bolder, pressing closer to Harry who only responds with a wry, coy little smile―and that certainly  _ does _ things for him, knowing Harry is aware of his obvious interest. He places a confident hand over the small of the younger man’s back, pulling him close enough to mark it out for everyone that Harry was taken.

(Harry is taken, not by Daisuke however, not  _ yet _ at least.)

* * *

That’s how Tom finds them later, Harry a beautiful showpiece hanging off his arm, being led around the party and introduced as  _ his _ . It’s a white lie, a fantasy he can indulge in for the moment, to pretend that the beautiful boy who laughs over the rim of his  _ Dom Pérignon _ isn’t the chief operator of Britain’s most efficient drug trade.

It helps that Daisuke also relishes in the look of barely held-back anger directed his way, pacified only by Harry who sighs in annoyance.  “Well, what were you expecting.” Harry says with a frown, “―I was getting bored.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm active [on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/therealconnor60)! (´,,•ω•,,)♡


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